


Whisper

by Toffle



Series: Safe Houses [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blood, Gen, HQ!! Zombie!AU, Haikyuu!! Zombie!AU, Mentions of Death, Multi, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 06:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5902357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toffle/pseuds/Toffle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragged around an infected city, sick with flu, Kuroo tries to hold on to the things that matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whisper

The world span. Kuroo clutched the wall with the effort to remain upright. They were so close, almost clear. He needed to keep moving. Kuroo hauled himself forward, using the banister of the stairwell to propel himself. Hands tugged at his clothing, urging him onwards. He could do it. They were so close to safety.

Light broke through the gloom of the stairwell in a bright burst, and a harsh shove launched Kuroo outside. The sound of a door clanged shut behind him as someone caught him in his forward momentum. He never hit the ground, the arms around his waist strong and steady. Kuroo’s stomach lurched.

The world blurred, mottled colours that flickered in his doubled vision. He sank to the floor and wheezed, pulling back the scarf from his face. It was late summer and Kuroo had never felt colder. Scarf free from his mouth, Kuroo braced his arms against the floor and heaved, panting and swallowing as much air as he could take before his lungs gave out into desperate coughs. Someone rubbed at his back; it did little to help.

A week ago found Kuroo immobile, unable to lift an eyelid, let alone a finger. Trapped under three blankets with ice on his forehead, Kuroo had waited for the cold claws of death to claim him. His mother had tried to keep calm. At first she'd left him soups and meals before heading to work, but as Kuroo's condition worsened she'd taken time off to stay by his side. As their current situation stood, Kuroo was grateful she had done so. If she had been caught at work when this had all kicked off...

They'd laughed at it a month ago. They'd seen the news reports and rolled their eyes. Sickness sweeping the nation was not ground breaking news by any stretch of the imagination. Kuroo simply reminded his mother not to work too hard, and in turn she'd told him not to stay up too late playing games with Kenma online.

“Don't even try to deny it,” she had scolded, with a smile too cheeky to argue with.

Now her hands held back his hair from his sweat slick forehead as he gasped for breath on the ground. Her palm pressed cool against his flushed skin, and Kuroo keened as the world lurched around him, beyond dizzy from his starved breaths.

“Easy now, slowly. That's it big guy.”

Kuroo sat back on his legs, closing his eyes as he forced himself to regain control. The arms around his waist kept him from swaying. Had it been a different situation, Kuroo would have laughed. If this was the universes idea of recovering from a cold, well it had a lot to answer for. He wondered if he was lucky. Maybe he was, but the tight grip around his throat and the irritation that burned deep in his lungs found him little to be grateful for.

“We're safe here, for now.”

“Where... Where is here?” Kuroo cracked opened his eyes and blinked the world into focus. The brightness hit him first, followed by green and brown. Potted trees danced unsteadily in front of him. They'd been climbing stairs hadn't they? Were they in a park? Kuroo's head hurt.

“We're on the roof. A terrace. Come on, let's get you over to a seat.” Hands pulled at him again and Kuroo held his mother’s arm for support. They made slow progress over to a bench that drifted in and out focus the more he tried to concentrate on it. He sat down with a heavy thump and let his head drop back against the wall.

“Why are we up here?”

“Kenma-kun said it would give us a good view of what's happening in the city right now.” His mother swept back his hair from his face. She worried her lip and sat down next to him, looking up as a helicopter flew overhead.

From across the roof Kenma's voice called out. “It isn't safe to stay on the streets right now.”

Kuroo looked over in the direction of Kenma's voice. He seemed to be standing alone near a fence. He looked smaller at such a distance. Or maybe Kuroo's depth perception was just that far gone.

“Kenma~ Come over here.” The teasing tone was lost to the roughness of Kuroo's voice, raw from weeks of sickness. Kenma made no motion to move closer, only turning further away. “Kenma?”

“Get some rest Kuro, you need it.” Kenma stepped back and walked off, following the terraces pathway.

Kuroo turned to the people at his side. His mother watched on after Kenma with worry pulling deep on her brows, and Yamamoto stared at his knees avoiding eye contact all together. “Does anyone want to tell me what that was about?”

Yamamoto stood up and pulled out his phone. “I think from here we can get some decent reception. I'll call the emergency line again.”

“Oi...” Kuroo leant forward and hooked him by the belt. “Don't ignore your captain.”

He felt his mother’s grip tighten around his shoulders. “I'll go talk to him. Yamamoto-kun, please keep an eye on my son.”

Yamamoto turned to face her, posing straight like a soldier. “Yes, ma’am!”

Through the speakers, Yamamoto's phone reached the hold line and a pleasant voice spoke quietly. Kuroo found no reassurance in the recorded message. He watched through weary eyes as his mother stood and straightened her clothes. She left his side to walk across the terrace, following after his best friend.

Kuroo shifted, laying down along the length of the bench. In front of him Yamamoto redialled and tried the emergency services again.

Their merry group was odd; his mother, his best friend, and his ace. Yamamoto had contacted them the day that they had left their home. He had phoned asking to come over, explaining that something had happened. It didn't take a hard guess to work it out. Kenma had taken the phone call for Kuroo, too zoned out on medication to listen clearly.

They were all heading for the same direction it seemed, and Kuroo and his mother could no longer stay in their apartment. Kuroo remembered the trail of blood. The body in the doorway. Someone had tried to attack his mother as she unlocked the door, and she had taken the coat rack to its head.

Yamamoto joining their group had been a benefit. He had made lugging Kuroo around much easier, soothing some of his mother’s nerves. Kuroo tried not to think too hard about the liability he currently posed.

“God dammit!”

Yamamoto's frustrated hiss jolted Kuroo from his thoughts. He spared a glance to the roof door in paranoia.

“Hey, not so loud.”

“Sorry.” Yamamoto dropped to a crouch in a huff, balancing on his toes and clutching at his head. “The line won't connect. Again and again 'please hold'. Ugh! This is annoying.”

Kuroo stared at the phone-charm dangling from Yamamoto's phone. The light caught it, reflecting brightly off of the surface. Kuroo ran his hands across his clothes until he found his own phone. He pulled it out and passed it over. His own phone-charm jangled between them, a small cat spinning on a red thread with a bell. “Try mine too.”

Yamamoto's hand shook as he reached out to take it, but the grin he gave Kuroo was confident. “Right! One of them is bound to connect.”

He sat both phones on the floor and switched them to speaker mode. A quick reprimand from Kuroo had him lowering the volume so that only they could listen to the ring-back tone. Several seconds passed until the call cut off with a polite apology, once again asking them to stay on the line.

Kuroo sighed and adjusted himself against the bench's cushions. He couldn't really remember how they had found themselves on such a lovely terrace. The whole journey had been a blur and it was fairing no better now.

He tried to piece the haze of information together. They'd been in the foyer of the building and his mother had tried to talk with the reception desk. Next, there had been a noise and somebody had screamed. Then they were running and Kuroo couldn't breathe.

His head thumped as he tried to concentrate, and he ran a hand through his mess of hair. Where was Kenma? Why were he and his mother taking so long? Had something happened down there? Was that why Kenma had walked off?

Kuroo sat up like a bolt ready to march over, but the sudden change in position made his vision swim. Hands on his shoulders steadied him.

“Hey, Kuroo, you doing alright there?”

“M'fine.”

“Ya don't look it. Lay back down ‘cause we won't be going anywhere for a while.” Yamamoto pushed at his shoulders, urging him to rest, but Kuroo resisted and shrugged him off.

“I'm going to see Kenma. Either help me, or let me stumble off on my merry way.” He pushed himself from the bench and staggered for a moment, taking a few seconds to regain his balance.

“Hey, he'll come back when he's ready. Give him some time.”

Kuroo frowned and turned a glare to the potted plant sitting just beyond Yamamoto's head. “You only need time if something has happened. I should be there with him.”

“Kuro –”

“Yamamoto, don't lie to me. This whole situation is too fucked up for this, and I know... I know you're just looking out for him but I should be doing that too.”

Yamamoto averted his eyes, expression pinching in a frustrated fury. He held his tongue and gripped his fists at his side. “It's up to Kenma what he talks about. I'm sorry, Kuroo.”

Kuroo wavered. He felt sick as a rush of worry swept over him, drowning out his own his frustrations. He stepped away and placed a hand against the wall for support, turning to follow the direction his mother had left in.

He tripped twice. The world rocked as though an ocean was beneath him and not the solid wood slats of the terrace. Beyond the bushes that decorated the area, Kuroo could just make out the colour of his mother’s jacket; deep purple amongst all of the green. For the tail-end of summer, it was still too hot to wear such things even at night, but the protection it offered from injury was enough of a benefit for her to have kept it on. Kuroo's stomach churned at the thought of losing his mother to hungry jaws.

A lump rose up and lodged in his throat. That didn't mean he'd prefer it to happen to Kenma. Kenma who had always been there, quiet and dependable. Kenma with his sharp mind and quick wit, who ran away from extra drills yet always stuck by their team when it mattered. Kuroo couldn't lose him either.

His foot caught the edge of a plant pot and Kuroo teetered into the fence lining the roofs edge. His fingers threaded into the chain link to keep upright. Whatever conversation had been happening beyond the bushes a few meters away, it came to complete halt.

Kuroo righted himself as Kenma's voice piped back up, just loud enough to hear.

“I can't.”

“We'll work something out.” Through the leaves, his mother pulled Kenma away from her arms. “Okay? We're all here.”

Her voice was too soft, too soothing, too laced with worry to do anything but send Kuroo's anxiety soaring. He bit his lip until he tasted blood, then quietly he called out.

“Kenma?”

The two shifted behind their hiding point, and slowly but surely his mother coaxed Kenma out from the small corner he had sought shelter in. The sight of Kenma's tear stained face felt like a physical blow to his chest. Kuroo stepped closer and reached out. “Kenma, please. Don't leave me in the dark.”

His voice broke on the plea, and Kenma's hesitation crumbled. He took three long strides forward and crashed into Kuroo's chest, squeezing his arms tight around his waist with a desperate gasp. Kuroo stared down at the top of his head and squeezed him back, ignoring the protest of his aching limbs. They weren't important. Kenma was. Kuroo kept him close until the shaking stilled, and Kenma twisted his head to rest against Kuroo's collar.

They remained silent as Kenma collected himself. He pressed his thumb across the bumps of Kuroo's ribs. Sickness had dropped Kuroo's weight at a rapid degree. He had lost track of when heaving over the toilet had become retching into a bucket, bedridden and unable to get up. The fact that he could feel Kenma's fingers counting his ribs so easily only highlighted the loss, but if it gave Kenma something to focus on then Kuroo couldn't complain.

He looked up to his mother in hopes of answers. She shook her head and gestured to Kenma, a sad smile failing to offer the comfort she had probably hoped it might. Kuroo swallowed the thick lump in his throat, it offered no relief from the tension that gripped him.

“... Say something, Kenma.” He didn't want to rush him, he really didn't.

Kenma sucked in a breath and his hold around Kuroo's waist tightened to a painful degree. He shook his head against Kuroo's chest, and a distressed whine escaped Kuroo's throat, unbidden and unwanted. He pressed his face into Kenma's hair.

Eventually, Kenma pried himself away. His eyes searched for somewhere to settle, wide and frightened and red. He settled on Kuroo's scarf and then licked his lips, seeming to not know where to begin. Kuroo clutched his hand, waiting.

“K-Kuro I...” Kenma stopped and scrunched his eyes close for a brief moment. With a struggle, he lifted his gaze to meet Kuroo's. “I made a mistake.”

“A mistake...”

“I – I wasn't fast enough.”

Kuroo's legs felt as though they had been swept out from under him. He swayed and his mother’s hands were at his side in an instant, coaxing him to sit down on another of the benches that lined the walls.

“No.”

Kenma stuck close, and once again his body shook. He held out his arm weakly for Kuroo to see. Above the elbow the fabric dripped, fresh and red and soaked. Kuroo tried to fathom how he hadn't noticed before. That was why Kenma had put such distance between them.

“No.” Kuroo repeated, as though the words would change something. As though they'd fix the situation.

“Some people... Some people broke into the lobby. It drew some of those things in.” Kenma's words were quiet, he sounded far away. Kuroo's wondered if that was due to the roaring in his ears, or due to Kenma's own fear. Perhaps it was both.

Kenma knelt down in front of him, resting his head against Kuroo's knees. “I pulled you out of the way and then... I guess we were lucky. Someone had opened the door to the stairwell. Yamamoto held it open and got us through.”

The bang, the screams. Suddenly they held context.

“We can do something... This is a hotel; they have first aid.” Kuroo looked up between his best friend and his mother, he barely paused for breath despite the need to cough. “We can go back down a floor or two, they'll have a kit somewhere.”

“Tetsurou-kun...”

He shook his head. He wouldn't hear it. “There has to be something. Have they proved that every single bite actually turns people? Kenma could be immune!”

“Kuro, that's... that's not—”

“I won't just let—!” His voice gave out and cut off into painful coughs that racked his chest and burnt his throat. Coughs turned into sobs and he pressed his head against Kenma's shoulder. The warmth of Kenma's own tears dripped hot onto his hands.

“Can't we do anything?” He choked out the moment air reached his lungs. “What if we cut it off, don't they do that in films?”

“Tetsurou-kun!” He flinched at his mother’s sharp tone, and Kenma dug his fingers into Kuroo's thighs painfully.

“I'm sorry. That was... I'm sorry.”

The grip on his legs released, and the pressure switched to Kuroo's head as Kenma began to card his fingers through his hair. The cushion dipped beside him as his mother joined them. She wrapped her arms around her son's waist, and he felt her lean over to press a kiss atop of Kenma's head. This wasn't fair. None of this was fair.

“Kuroo!”

They jumped at the call, startled from their grief. Hurried footsteps raced closer and Yamamoto's voice reached them in an excited whisper as he rounded the corner. “I got through! I spoke with someone!”

His mother sat up alert and ushered him over. “What did they say? What's going to happen now?”

Kuroo pulled Kenma's hands to his chest, waiting with baited breath. Yamamoto's wide grin softened and then dropped once he seemed to realise the situation he'd interrupted. He passed the phone over to Kuroo's mother.

“They're sending a helicopter. We're being relocated to an evacuation camp they've set up just outside the city.”

Kuroo's mother sagged against the bench in relief. Kuroo kept Kenma close, clinging onto a single hope.

“They'll have doctors. They'll know what to do.”

Kuroo ignored the voice in his head, and the weak looks of those present, that told him that if the medical world had any answers then surely they would have acted by now to prevent this horrific escalation.

~*~

The response team took half an hour to arrive. By that time, they had managed to tie off Kenma's wound to reduce the bleeding; it wasn't much but it would have to do. He leant heavily against Kuroo's side, skin pale and eyes firmly shut.

When the helicopter flew over there was nowhere to land. They watched it circle and hover until a rope was lowered and the rescue team descended. Two paramedics flew down the rope, landing on the ground with a practiced ease. Kuroo’s mother stood to greet them.

Their talk was brief. Names were given and their situation explained. Kenma tensed in Kuroo's arms as the response team eyed them. They tried to take his mother first. The decision set Kuroo’s nerves on edge. Weren't they supposed to prioritise the injured?

“Take my kids. I'm an adult and I can wait.” Her voice was firm as she led them over. “One is sick, and one is injured.”

They pushed Kenma forward but the paramedics reached for Yamamoto instead.

“Hey, hey! I'm fine! I'm not the one who's hurt.” His protests went ignored. The team left him no room for argument and reminded them that valuable time was being wasted. They needed to remove them from the area as soon as possible.

They strapped him to the rope system alongside one of the paramedics and began their ascent, with their remaining rescuer overseeing their safety. It took ten minutes, and once Yamamoto was secured in the aircraft, the paramedic re-joined their partner on the roof.

The moved to examine Kuroo next. “How long have you been ill for?”

“Coming up three weeks. I'm on the mend.” Kuroo answered them honestly, trying out a crooked grin that felt wrong on his face.

“Fever, vomiting, dizziness?” They checked his eyes and throat. Was this normal procedure?

“Anything you can name, I've had.”

One turned away, contacting someone on their radio. Kuroo couldn't make out their conversation. He was soon distracted from it as the other paramedic turned to Kenma, taking a survey of his blood soaked arm.

The makeshift bandage was removed, and the wound looked no better than it had before. The paramedic called something out to their partner. Kuroo guessed it was a code for a bite, it seemed like the most obvious conclusion to make.

“Can you do anything?”

The paramedic offered Kenma no answers, and to Kuroo that was worse than any false assurances. Kenma whimpered, biting his lip as fresh bandages were applied. As cagey as the rescue team was being, Kuroo was thankful that they still took the time to apply first-aid. He hoped that it meant Kenma wasn't a lost cause. Above them the helicopter circled again.

The rope dropped back down from above. Slow, but relentless, a wave of unease began to rise around Kuroo's ankles as the paramedics' radios crackled to life. They spoke quickly and once again Kuroo could understand nothing. However, he heard the hitch as Kenma's breath caught, and Kenma looked up to Kuroo with barely concealed fear.

“Kenma? What did they say?”

“They're discussing us.” His voice was so quiet that Kuroo almost didn't catch it. “Whether to let us on or not... I think.”

Kuroo found himself at a loss for words. Could they just do that, just abandon them here to most likely die?

Again the rescue team approached his mother, coaxing her to step up to the rope so that she could be taken on board. Kuroo saw her tense, argument on her lips before they could utter another word.

“Until my kids are on board, I'm going nowhere.” She stepped away from them and, with Kuroo's help, she hoisted Kenma from the bench. He was unsteady on his feet and Kuroo hoped that blood loss was the only cause of it. The alternative didn't bear thinking about.

“You take my son, you put him on board. And then you'll take Tetsurou-kun.”

Her son. Her son, Kenma Kozume. Kuroo smiled at his best friends back, keeping his hand in place just above his waist for support. The thought brought him joy that his mother was just as protective over his friends as she was of him. Kenma had always had a second home with them, and Kuroo prayed that he would continue to do so.

The paramedics exchanged words. To Kuroo they looked solemn, guilty even.

“We cannot bring him on board.”

Sickness rose in his throat and burned.

“Excuse me?” Kuroo's mother snapped the words out. Kuroo felt the blood drain from his face. “You can't be serious. This is wrong and you know it.”

“We're sorry. We're under instruction to not allow bites on board.” The explanation sounded weak to Kuroo's ears. His hand slid up Kenma's back as the boy sunk to his knees. Kuroo caught him, pulling him back against his chest.

“You can't just leave him out here to die! You have doctors, surely you have a cure? Put him into quarantine!”

“Ma'am, I'm going to need you to—”

“Please!” Kuroo cut in, calling out over the top of Kenma's head. Kenma's entire body vibrated beneath him, he didn't need to look to know that tears were on his face. “Doctors need volunteers right!? If you're still searching for a cure, then surely his life is worth saving! I won't leave him behind.”

“I won't leave my kids here, and you already have one on board. Please reconsider. Kenma-kun was only bitten about an hour ago, maybe less.”

Kenma clawed at Kuroo's arms and took in a shaky breath. “I'll volunteer. The time the infection takes to set in is a lot longer than that. They said that... on the news. I don't want– Don't...”

The rescue crew couldn't meet their eyes.

“Please. They're just children, don't do this.” He'd never heard his mother beg before. Her hands shook at her sides and it cut Kuroo to the core.

They stood in silence. Even the sound of the helicopter above could not break the tension in the atmosphere. The seconds passed like hours, seeming to stretch on without end as Kuroo waited. This was a death sentence, pending on a single decision that would either save or damn them. If they left them here, Kenma would stand no chance at all. They would have to brave the stairs back down to the street below, to those waiting there who preyed on it.

The sound of a radio crackling broke the moment. The paramedics shared heated words and then one connected their transmission. There was a garbled exchanged that Kuroo couldn't decipher and both he and Kenma jumped at the sharp commands that were fired across the channel.

After a brief word with his co-worker the paramedics approached them.

“Let's get him on board before we regret this.”

Their partners voice was softer as they helped Kenma to his feet.

Kuroo followed after them, watching closely as they strapped Kenma in and hoisted him into the aircraft above.

“Thank you!” His voice broke and the tears fell freely down his cheeks as he dipped into a low bow. His mother pulled him up with too much force, preventing him from falling over as his balance faltered. The curl of her lip and her guarded expression made Kuroo think that she didn't want him to show gratitude at all.

He continued to cry, silent at his mother’s side, until the rescue team returned to take him too. The loss of her firm hand against his back was briefly missed. He wondered if he was right to thank these people after all. If they had been stricter with harder hearts, then surely Kenma would never have been let on board. He had to be grateful for something. He had to thank every moment that kept them safe together.

As he was strapped into the helicopters seats, Kuroo reached for Kenma's hands again.

“We'll make it, we'll be fine.”  _You'll be fine._

“Kuro, this is dangerous.”

He kissed the top of Kenma's head. “Everything is dangerous right now.”

His mother soon joined them, and once she was settled the helicopter flew out of the area. Yamamoto sat silent beside them. He stuck close to Kenma's side, a steady support Kuroo was glad for. His mother held Kenma's knee and rubbed small circles across the surface of his trousers.

Kuroo turned his face to whisper into Kenma's hair. “I've got you. We'll grab dinner when we arrive and they'll set us up with somewhere to sleep.” Promise after promise, Kuroo swore to him the world as tears dripped from their cheeks, and Kenma hid against his neck. “I won't leave your side.”

They were going to be alright. They had to be.

~*~

They arrived at the base all too soon, and thrown into chaos immediately. Men in uniforms hauled them from the helicopter, separating both he and Kenma from their group without pause to explain. They herded them away into another room, not a word spoken between them.

His mother’s cry for them followed Kuroo through guarded doors as struggled against them, and he caught one last image of her as they closed shut behind him. A heavy silence descended on the room and chill swept over him. Anxiety raced across Kuroo's skin like an electric charge.

A man with thin lips and cold eyes informed them that they been placed into quarantine. He wore a different uniform to the other officers in the room, and Kuroo eyed the gun holstered on his hip.

The man's reasoning was simple: Kuroo was still sick and until he was no longer contagious he would remain in the ward. Kenma... well, Kenma was a risk to everyone. With that blunt explanation, they moved to take Kenma away.

Kuroo reacted in a heartbeat, shoving himself between them to block the officers from taking Kenma anywhere. At least, that had been Kuroo's foolish plan. He was a seventeen-year-old sports player trying to prevent armed guards and doctors from an infected liability.

“I'm going with him.” He declared.

The guard glared down at him. “You will remain here until you have been processed and cleared.”

“Where ever he goes, I go. Take me with him.”

Kuroo didn't have time to blink before his hands were behind his back and Kenma was snatched from behind him. There was no negotiation. There was no room for discussion. The guards command of ‘restrain him’ clipped through the air.

Kenma tried to pull away and reach for him, but it was no use. “Kuro!”

“Kenma!” He struggled against the guards hold, craning to see Kenma fighting every step as they manhandled him to another set of doors. “Wait! Kenma! Let me go with him, dammit! Kenma!”

The guard held strong against Kuroo's thrashing, and brushed off his kicks as though they were nothing. Kuroo's weaknesses, brought from flu and exhaustion, worked against him. He felt faint. His pulse pounded in his ears, and the only sound that mattered was Kenma's voice fading—crying out for him until the slam of the doors cut him off.

Kuroo continued to fight. When his knees hit the concrete beneath him, he hardly noticed. The world blurred away under hot tears and it drowned with Kenma's name on his lips.

He had no way of knowing if he'd ever see Kenma again. They'd taken him away, and all of Kuroo's promises crashed to floor in a broken heap.

**Author's Note:**

> I was never meant to write more for this zombie AU. It was just meant to remain an IwaOi oneshot. Then I started thinking 'I wonder what's happening in Tokyo, it's so much larger and urban compared to Miyagi.' 
> 
> This is fic is set a few weeks after the first one. Iwaizumi's story starts during the early months of the sickness spreading, and Kuroo's story starts about two to three weeks after Iwaizumi's story ends. Kuroo caught the sickness around the same time that Iwaizumi's mother... well. You'll have to read the first part for that story.
> 
> This is my first time writing for Nekoma, so please let me know if things seem OOC.


End file.
